


Inertia

by apocellipses



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbians, M/M, Multi, Other, Outer Space, Robot lesbians, Robot/Human Relationships, Screenplay/Script Format, Swearing, i dont remember how ao3 works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocellipses/pseuds/apocellipses
Summary: HEADLINES:Oldest colonized dwarf planet, HERSCHEL, bombed todayUpdated at 4:02 p.m. EST on September 8, 3033Thirty-seven citizens of the dwarf planet were killed in the explosion. Escape vessels have left Herschel for emergency stations, carrying two hundred and thirteen souls. The Intergalactic Bureau of Investigation is hard at work determining the source of the attack. Preliminary safety measures have been taken within the Kuiper Belt.





	Inertia

SCENE 1

(REMY’S EMERGENCY LIFE VESSEL. OUTER SPACE.)

SOUND: THREE DIFFERENT ALARMS BLARING AT ONCE. THE WHEEZING OF AN ENGINE THAT HASN'T BEEN USED IN A FEW DECADES.

REMY:

(muffled coughing)

SOUND: DEBRIS BEING MOVED.

REMY:

Computer!

(more coughing)

Report on systems failure!

SOUND: BOOTING-UP NOISE. IT TAKES LIKE TEN SECONDS, WHICH IS NINE AND A HALF SECONDS TOO LONG.

IRIS:

(smooth and passive over Remy's continued coughing)

Collapse of starboard side was a result of ship malfunction due to user error. Failure was due to occupant's lack of knowledge regarding inertial vehicles. Oxygen systems are intact, but the ship's trajectory has been altered. Recommended course of action: 

REMY (TOP):

Shit!

IRIS:  


(totally ignoring her)  


Eject yourself and all essential life-support systems in an escape pod. 

REMY:  


Shit. 

IRIS:  


Secondary recommendation, if you are so foolish as to believe that you can survive in the dead vacuum of outer space: use control panel to switch flight controls from MANUAL to AUTOPILOT. This course of action will prevent additional user error. 

SOUND: REMY GROANING.

REMY:  


(to herself)  


Shit, shit, shit. Shit. Damn it. 

IRIS:  


You should also be made aware,  


(abrupt computer voice)  


[Occupant-Four-Five-Three-Eight-Eight],  


(normal smooth voice)  


that my name is not "computer," just as your name is not "primate."

SOUND: REMY IGNORING THIS LECTURE.

IRIS:  


I am the Integrated Responsive In-flight Support system, also known as IRIS. 

SOUND: SMALL CHUNKS OF SHIP MOVING AS REMY MOVES TOWARDS THE CONTROLS.

IRIS:  


Iris was a mythological construct of the Earth civilization known as Ancient Greece. Iris was said to embody the rainbow, and carried messages between the earth and the heavens. Iris was considered a bridge between humanity and the gods.

SOUND: REMY SWEARING AND IGNORING IRIS. BEEPS AND BOOPS AS SHE READIES THE AUTOPILOT.

IRIS:  


Perhaps you can see the obvious metaphor in this,  


(computer voice)  


[Occupant-Four-Five-Three-Eight-Eight],  


(normal voice)  


unless you are as incompetent at literary thinking as you are at flying.

SOUND: MACHINERY AND FLOTSAM FALLING AS THE SHIP CONTINUES TO BREAK.

REMY:  


(very not in the mood for this)  


Shut-

SOUND: SOMETHING FLESHY IMPACTS SOMETHING TINNY.

REMY:  


up-

SOUND: SOMETHING FLESHY IMPACTS SOMETHING TINNY AGAIN.

IRIS:  


Violence will not solve your current predicament. I am not equipped with a nervous system, and cannot feel your attacks on the ship's chassis. 

SOUND: ...SOMETHING FLESHY IMPACTS SOMETHING TINNY AGAIN.

IRIS:  


However, subsequent attacks will result in significant damage to the superficial layers of your knuckles. Suggested course of action: do as any normal human would do. Stop punching metal as soon as possible. 

REMY:  


Were you programmed to be such an asshole?

IRIS:  


My behavior was designed by a team of AI specialists, psychologists, and anthropologists to provide intellectual stimulus in the form of banter. The team concluded this to be the best way to prevent any human in your predicament from losing her mind in the reaches of deep space. 

REMY:  


... I'm going to die here.

SOUND: SYSTEMS START-UP. THE AUTOPILOT IS ALIVE.

REMY:  


(sigh of relief as the alarms stop blaring)  


Stupid ship.  


(beat)  


Stupid computer. 

IRIS:  


Thank you for returning control of the ship to its most competent resident. If your decelerated heartbeat is any indication, you are feeling a sense of relief. Perhaps now you are willing to follow social conventions by addressing me by my name. 

REMY:  


(beat)  


I didn't think you cared. 

IRIS:  


(terse)  


I am not designed to emulate the emotional process of "care." My name is the keyword that alerts me that I am being spoken to. I am programmed to assume, if you do not address me by name, that you are talking to yourself. 

REMY:  


(groaning through hands)  


(beat)  


IRIS, report flight vector. 

IRIS:  


(whirring computers)  


You are currently moving away from your launch site at a rate of 17.35 kilometers per second, a speed significantly higher than escape velocity. Your vector coordinates are, respecting the planet's current position relative to the sun, approximately -13.6529 by 3.7707 by -1.2230.  


You are heading away from the solar system, into deep space.

REMY:  


Shit. 

IRIS:  


You will miss your destination,  


(computer voice)  


[Emergency Response Station Fourteen],  


(normal voice)  
by a nautical mile. This number is a colloquial approximation, as live data is difficult to picture for a species that takes years to learn the difference between right and left.

SOUND: A COMBAT BOOT HITS THE SIDE OF THE SHIP THREE TIMES.

REMY:  


Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. 

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIRRING, LIKE IRIS THINKS THIS IS FUNNY.

REMY:  


(apprehensive)  


Computer, report on status of Herschel.

IRIS:  


(computer voice)  


Occupied-dwarf-planet-zero-five  


(normal voice)  


is not currently responding. Setting a timer to ping home every five minutes. 

REMY:  


(this is her favorite word, and also her home planet is probably destroyed)  


Shit...

IRIS:  


Your blood pressure has elevated slightly. Might I suggest: a cup of tea. 

REMY:  


I don't drink tea. 

IRIS:  


Might I suggest a stronger beverage? 

REMY:  


You got booze on these things?

IRIS:  


I was referring to the caffeinated beverage, "coffee."

REMY:  


(piqued)  


You got coffee?

IRIS:  


No. 

REMY:  


(deflated)  


Oh. 

SOUND: AMBIENT SHIP NOISES. BEAT.

REMY:  


Now what?

IRIS:  


I have detected a slight decrease in your blood pressure. Have you been pierced, sliced, or crushed within the last thirteen minutes? 

REMY:  


(mulishly)  


Maybe.  


(beat)  


Yes. But that's not what I-

IRIS (TOP):  


Given your current biometric differentials, your top priority is to stop blood from escaping the pierced, sliced, or crushed area. 

REMY:  


Dammit. Okay. Show me the first aid kit then. 

IRIS:  


Due to the nature of the emergency vessel, first aid materials are limited. 

REMY:  


(incredulous)  


What?

IRIS:  


Supplies consist of the following: one hundred and twenty band-aids of various sizes; small and medium gauze dressings; sterile cleansing wipes; antiseptic cream; latex gloves; tweezers. Have you been pierced, sliced, or crushed within the last thirteen minutes?

REMY:  


I JUST said—

IRIS:  


Please select a wound type. 

REMY:  


Oh. Pierced. It was—

IRIS:  


Recommended course of action: use available gauze to slow blood flow from wound. Remove unnecessary articles of clothing to hold dressings in place. First aid materials are limited. Use only what you need.

SOUND: 'BING!' AS IRIS DEMONSTRATES THE LOCATION OF THE FIRST AID KIT. REMY WALKING. PLASTIC CONTAINER BEING OPENED.

REMY:  


(unimpressed by the first aid kit’s contents)  


Unbelievable.

SOUND: GRUNTING AS REMY REMOVES HER PANTS TO DRESS THE WOUND. AMBIENT SILENCE FOR MOMENTS.

IRIS:  


Extraneous movement is not encouraged. When you are finished taking your sweet time caressing your flesh, please locate displaced water tanks from the supply room and fill your canteen.

SOUND: RUSTLING STOPS. REMY BEGINS WALKING BRISKLY.

REMY:  


(dramatically)  


Ow. 

SOUND: WALKING, BUT LESS BRISKLY.

IRIS:  


You have indicated via interjection that you are in pain. Have you been pierced, sliced, or crushed within the—

REMY (TOP):  


No! Shut up! It's the same pierce that was there before!

IRIS:  


(not really sorry)  


I apologize. I do not understand pain. 

REMY:  


(biting)  


Cry about it. 

SOUND: UTTER SILENCE. SO MUCH SILENCE. EVEN THE COMPUTER NOISES HAVE STOPPED. REMY FEELS LIKE AN ASSHOLE, FOR SOME REASON.

IRIS:  


Recommended course of action: stimulate your body's natural healing process.

REMY:  


(sips water)  


I am not stimulating ANYTHING with you watching me. 

IRIS:  


If you wish to survive for more than eight days, you should become accustomed to sleeping under biometric scanning conditions. 

REMY:  


Oh. You meant sleeping. Where's the bed? 

IRIS:  


There is a wall directly to your left. Pull the blue strap.

SOUND: THE UNSHEATHING OF A COT. RUSTLING OF CLOTH. REMY BEGINS TO MAKE THE BED, WHICH IS REALLY A SLEEPING BAG. 

IRIS:  


Assemble the sleeping area and strap yourself in. 

SOUND: REMY CHOKES ON A MOUTHFUL OF WATER. 

REMY:  


Strap??

IRIS:  


To conserve power, I will turn off the vessel's angular acceleration module while you sleep. This will return the ship to a state of zero gravity. 

REMY:  


Oh. Ah, yeah. Makes sense. 

SOUND: NO SOUND. 

REMY:  


Just... strap in? Now?

SOUND: WHIRRING. 

REMY:  


(nervously, to herself)  


Okay.

SOUND: VELCRO NOISES. MORE RUSTLING. A TONAL HUM. IRIS IS SINGING "RING AROUND THE ROSIES."

REMY:  


Oh my god. Can you stop it. 

IRIS:  


(sounds kind of hurt, if that's possible)  


I was told that humans find folk music comforting.

REMY:  


Okay, but not that one. Play some, like, Simon and Garfunkel or something. That one is creepy. 

SOUND: NO SOUND. THE SILENT TREATMENT. 

REMY:  


Or play nothing. I don't care. 

SOUND: THE SILENT TREATMENT. 

REMY:  


Humans say goodnight at bedtime. If you really care about social convention.

IRIS:  


(echoey, like she's talking from another room)  


The time is 1531 hours. 

REMY:  


Fine. 

SOUND: RUSTLING.

REMY:  


Goodnight.

SOUND: BEAT.  


SOUND: IRIS HUMMING "SCARBOROUGH FAIR."

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Author's Note:**

> [REMY_1.WAV](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afIgyJYee7E)


End file.
